Friendly Grudges
by IzzyCursebreaker
Summary: Set after ACOMAF, before ACOWAR, spoilers! Feyre has made a new friend at the Spring, a mysterious fae female with a haunting past. Will the secret of her past destroy Feyre? (Completed, even if I say otherwise throughout the story)
1. New Village

IFeyre dreaded the day. The sun shone on the vibrant, green grass and the flowers sat still in their beds.

Everything was so plain. Too bright, without texture. She had been there for three weeks now, and it killed her.

She had not heard from Rhys in this time. No letters, no vile gifts for Tamlin, and no feeling or words in her mind. She understood, have contact would be a dangerous move now.

So it has all been quiet, and she was only waiting. "Feyre." The firmilliar voice cam from behind her. She plastered on a smile, then turned around to see Lucien stand there. "Are you ready to go?" He asked. Feyre nodded.

He led Feyretowards the front gates of the estate, where a grand carriage waited. "Why do we need the carriage?" Feyre asked sweetly, the smile on her faceinnocent.

Lucien looked back at her, his metal eye pinning me down. His other eye, russet, was bright and vibrant. But laced in it was sadness. Sheknew he missed Elain. "It is required for you Feyre. Why, do you expect something else?"

Feyre pushed the subject. "Couldn't I just ride there like everyone else?"

"No." Lucien said. "Tamlin will be in there with you."

Tamlin had really been trying after Feyre returned home. There were no guards, with the exception of Lucien, and Feyrewas allowed in the woods. She has happier than she expected, but she still longed for the NightCourt, for Rhys.

"Of course." Feyre said. She climbed in to carriage, Luciens arm there for support. The simple, green and flowing dress was easy to fit in the carriage, and Feyre decided that that was the best part of her day so far.

Soon enough, Tamlin joinder her in the carriage. He wore simple cloths, the same kind Feyre first saw him wear. That was when he loved him, that was not her anymore. "Feyre." He said in greeting, raisin her hand to his lips and kissing them softly. Feyre  
/plastered on a smile. "You look beautiful." He said, smiling.

"You too." Feyre said back. "Where are we going?" She really had no idea. The only information she was told was; 'get dressed you're going out.' Of course, going out could also mean ten steps out the gates.

Tamlin smiled and look ahead, where his men climbed in their elegant horses and prepared the go. Lucien was up the front, leading the way. "We're going to a small village of High Fae for a visit." That was all he said, then he barked an order for his  
/mean to go. The carriage began moving, and Feyre let her face slip into how she really felt, lonely.

Tamlin didn't notice, he looked ahead. Looking for any attacks, Feyre supposed. It was going to be a long ride. A ride through green trees that all look the same. A ride through flowers that all smelled the same.

A ride that made Feyre feel the same.

But she made a promise. She would find a way to stop the king, and if this was the only way right now, traveling to a small village, then she would do it.

 _Sometime later..._

Feyre' mind had been switched off for the past few hours now, thinking of nothing. But when she felt a tapping on her thigh, she snapped out of it. "Feyre, we're here." Tamlin said from beside me.

Feyre looked ahead, paying attention. She took back the urge to snarl. The 'village' was large. The houses were white marblewithvines limping upthe walls, like smaller versions of Tamlin Manour. The villages streets were cobblestone

and wide, small shops in a row.

The High Fae that lived there were beautiful. Tanned skin, shiny hair and bright eyes. Glimmering jewlry, cloths and smiles.

Feyre genuinely smiled, she was somewhere else, a change of scenery and people. Maybe she could be not unhappy for the next few days.

She hoped.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I stated writing this, but just to let you know this is only a small project. I am not dedicating myself to it, sorry. But that doesn't mean I will not be continuing it, so be sure to keep a lookout for that!**


	2. Broken Rules

The carriage and horses stopped in the town square. It was beautiful, the white marble water fountain sat at the center of a cobblestone road. Rows of bakery's, jewelry shops and florists surrounded the area, with four roads traveling north, east, south and west. The think green jungle around them brought amazing color, and Feyre plastered on a face of admiration. The vibrant colors, the plain white buildings. It was all a lie. Pretty, innocent.

Tamlins hand trailed her arm as he said; "It's beautiful isn't it?" Feyre nodded, though did not believe it. "It's one of the only High Fae villages in the Spring Court. The rest are inhabited by lesser fae, but not this one." He seemed to take pride in this, and Feyre held back her scoff. "And this one is one one of the few that has a leader, other than me of course." He smiled at her, and Feyre forced a smile back. She had become quite used to it lately, pretty good at it too.

Lucien came to Feyre's side of the carriage, offering her his arm. She took it, as she should. He looked at her, nothing short of a fake smile spreading on his face. Feyre didnt bother to smile back, didn't feel like it. She only stepped from the carriage, and walked around it to Tamlin. High Fae dressed in elaborate clothing began to gather around, bowing deeply to their High Lord. One man, tall with a deep blue t-shirt and fawn hair, stepped up to Tamlin. She greeted Tamlin with a warm smile, yet the way a servant would greet their master. The way Lucien greeted Tamlin.

The young Fae male said to Tamlin, his voice rough; "High Lord. What is the meaning of this visit?" He didn't bow, and Feyre realized he was the leader of the village Tamlin spoke of not five minutes ago. He was handsome, as most High fae were. His hair was a light shade of fawn that reached down half-way down his back. His eyes were a deep brown, and his skin was the same golden as Tamlin's.

Tamlin approached the man. "Conn, we must speak eminently. Argent matters have just come to notice." _Only because you caused them_ Feyre was itching to say, but held her tongue. Tamlin turned to her, but addressed Conn. "Please show Feyre someplace to stay, and give Lucien a room close by." He turned to face Conn.

Conn only nodded. He turned slightly, and inclined his scarred hand behind him. A female stepped forward from the gathered crowd. She had the same colored hair as Conn, the same eyes and skin. Feyre assumed they were related by some way. Siblings probably. She was very young, very beautiful. Her hair was wavy, and came not even to her shoulders. It was not much longer than Amrens. Her face was round, her nose small and her dark pink lips full. She wore a two piece outfit, the lightest of blues embedded with small jewels. The top came up to her neck but left her arms uncovered. The bottom half flowed around her and came to her knees. She also wore smooth white boots that came to her knees. If the color was different, it would be considered Night Court fashion.

She approached and stood close by Conn. He slung a friendly arm around her shoulders. He spoke to Feyre, gesturing to the girl. "This my my sister, Cynthia. She'll take you and Lucien to our home and get you settled in." He smiled a warm smile, and Feyre only nodded. She looked over to the girl, who didn't smile. Her face was set in a grim expression, and Feyre wondered of it was anything to do with Tamlin's presence. Her presence.

But Cynthia walked over to Feyre and Lucien who stood by her side. She approached smoothly, the grace of a wolf. The grace of a predator. Feyre wished to show her her power. But Feyre was to be the meek prey. Tamlin's little child to protect. Cythia's voice was soft, yet rough. As if shouting or crying for too long. "Follow me." That was all she said as she turned to Feyre's left and began walking towards the East road. Feyre looked over to Lucien, who began to follow her. Feyre followed suit. But she looked over to Tamlin who was talking to Conn more formally now, a stern look on his face. Then Conn turned and Tamlin followed him up the North road.

* * *

Cynthia led Lucien and Feyre down a long cobblestone road to a house. Larger than the other houses we had passed, white marble and around the size of a small cottage, but much smaller than Tamlin's Manor. They still looked like mini versions though, covered in thick green vines and open to sunlight with their abnormally large windows. The house Cynthia led us to had a cobblestone path leading through a small front yard filled with blood-red roses. Feyre wondered if Tamlin had any influence over the deliberate copy of his home, or if they simply took too much praise in him.

Lucien seemed to be thinking the same thing, scanning the scenery around him with a stern expression resting on his face. Then he looked down to Feyre, not bothering to smile. Neither did she, was Cynthia entered the house and left the door open. Lucien entered the house first in case of any danger that might have been set up, whether it was for show or not, Feyre slouching behind.

The inside of the house stayed true to Tamlin's manor, again, just smaller. White marble walls which checkered floors made the first room. The sitting room was full of wooden furniture with vine green cushions. The large windows let in golden beams of sunlight, filling the room with golden light. White doors on the back doors were closed, uninviting. Cynthia walked over to a seat by one of the large windows and sat down, hands in her lap. She looked over to Lucien, as if avoiding eye contact with Feyre. She spoke for the first time since Conn introduced her. "Come and sit, I would like to get to know you." Lucien looked over the Feyre, as if asking permission. She only walked to take a seat on the lounge opposite Cynthia. Lucien sat beside her, eyes on Cynthia. She stared back at him, a challenging stance swirling behind her eyes. Lucien held his stare, and Feyre found herself feeling quite uncomfortable. She cleared her throat, and Cynthia looked over to her for the first time.

"Hello." Feyre said, unsure of what to say in such an awkward situation. She looked over to Lucien for support, only to see Lucien's eyes still plastered on Cynthia. She didn't look back at him her eyes on Feyre. Feyre looked back at her eyes. Persian blue, swirling in a forbidding black mist. They were beautiful, and Feyre began to wonder if she was from the Spring Court at all. It seemed the night court suited her better. "Your name is Cynthia?" It was more of a statement than a question.

She nodded. "As far as I know." She turned her head to Lucien. "I suspect there will be things you must bring into your rooms." She inclined her head towards two doors on the back wall, identifying them as their rooms. "Would you like to go and get them?" It seemed more of an order than a question. Her voice was that of a commanders, but not at all brimmed with brutal history as Cassians is when he commands the armies.

Lucien stiffened beside Feyre. "And leave my High Priestess with you?"

"Are you seriously questioning my intensions?" Her voice became brimmed with controlled anger. Lucien opened his mouth the reply, but Cynthia beat him to it. "May I remind you that you are in my home, and my village. I will not have you come in and threaten me and accuse me of wrong intentions." Her gaze held Luciens, the silent command worded in her eyes.

Lucien gave in, standing from the lounge and leaving the room, with one last glance at Feyre before exiting the door. Feyre felt uncomfortable, yet remembered the part she was to play. The obedient, reserved High Priestess. She kept her back straight like a proper lady as she faced Cynthia whom she found slouching in her chair, hand on her face. She began sobbing, soft and innocent and broken. A woman she wasn't yet a second ago. Feyre didn't know what to do, so she sat there and watched in confusion and amazement as Cynthia sobbed.

It was minuted before Cnythia looked up again, tears stained her cheeks from her tears. And Feyre realised, there were a lot of tears. Cynthia's voice cracked as she spoke, and broken soul. She was so tired of keeping on her mask. Being a commander, a strong woman. That mask of the unbreakable, strong fae that she was support to be was shattered before Feyre, and she didn't know what to do. What would Rhys do? "It's so hard to be around you people." She sobbed again, and Feyre's head spun. Why? Why was it hard? What had caused her to break down like that?

Feyre dared to venture "Why?" Was all she said.

Cynthia looked up from her hands, eyes red and puffy. "I can't tell you why. I've been forbidden." She sniffled, calming down. "I shouldn't say anything. I'm not suppose to. It's the rules, cry behind closed doors and windows. Cry where there's no one to watch you. No one can know, no one can find out." Feyre's head spun, as she held out a hand to Cynthia. Cynthia only looked at it, a disgusted look in her eyes. "No one can know."

"Know what?" Feyre pressed, leaning closer to Cynthia. "Who made those rules? What can't anyone know?"

"If I tell you, it defeats the purpose of it being a secret." Her voice cracked with her tears.

"Is it Conn? He was the only one who could have made these 'rules'. The one with power. Cynthia shook her head. But she didn't mean it. Then a thought caught Feyre's mind. She inclined her head, leaning in closer to Cynthia. "Why are you crying?"

Cynthia looked up at Feyre, Tears stained her cheeks, her hair disheveled from grabbing it. The words she spoke stopped Feyre's heart, it stopped the world from turning.

"Under the mountain, you killed by Mate."


	3. Punishment

Feyre's heart stopped. The whole world stopped.

Cynthia sobbed before her, tears staining her cheeks and painting her eyes red. Her cries ran in Feyre's ears, and the memories flashed through her mind.

 _"Your final task, Feyre," Amarantha drawled, gesturing to the kneeling faeries. "Stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart."_

 _I stepped up to the first kneeling figure - the longest and most brutal step I'd ever taken._

 _...the guards that who held the first kneeling figure snatched the hood off it's head.  
_

Feyre's heart fell to her feet as the image of Cynthia's mate came into her mind.

She sobbed, a cry that made Feyre's world shake. "His eyes were beautiful, the color of the sky I live under every day, and I'm needed to pretend that I can't remember him. I'm needed to pretend that he never existed but you can't just forget your mate." A tangue of guilt and sadness rushed through Feyre, and quickly pushed out to image of her own mate out of her mind. She thought of Cynthia's mate, the way his eyes, his words, pleaded for his life.

 _It was a handsome High Fae youth. I didn't know him, I'd never seen him, but his blue eyes were pleading._

 _His eyes were the color of a sky I'd never see again if I refused to kill him, a color I'd never get out of my mind, never forget no matter how many times I painted it. He shoot his head, those eyes growing so large that white showed all around. He would never see that sky, either._

 _"Please," he whispered, his focus darting between the ash dagger and my face. "Please."_

And she stabbed him in the heart, she killed him. She kept repeating for herself that three lives for many was with the sacrifice, she didn't dare think in the moment of who these Fae were, who their friends and families were. She told herself as she left the mountain that one day she may one day learn their names, but she never did. She never really has thought about it, who they were individually.

But now she dare ask, now she dare think deeper. She dare think about those pleading blue eyes, full of such shock and hate, as she lunged the dagger into his back and into his heart. Now she dare ask his name. "What was his name, Cynthia?"

She sniffled, looking up from her hands into Feyre's eyes. "I can't tell you." She sobbed harder. "Its against the rules; cry behind closed doors and windows. Cry where there's no one to watch you. No one can know, no one can find out."

Feyre took Cynthia's hand in her own, and Cynthia seemed to stop as she stared at Feyre, sadness swirling in her eyes. "Cynthia, you need to tell someone. You need to tell someone what you need to say, or your sadness is going to take over you until you break. And when you break, there will be no away of coming back. You will be stuck inside a tower you cannot escape from, you need to escape now before the tower window closes forever."

Cynthia had stopped crying, but traces of her tears still stained her cheeks. She let go of Feyre's hands, stepping back from her and wiping her face with the balls of her hands. She breathed in, and out again. Feyre watched, waiting. Cynthia radiated heartbreak, and the cause of that was standing right in front of her. Feyre was waiting for the moment when Cynthia attacked, but it never came.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, but Lucien entered the room and silenced her. His metal eye darted around the room, taking in the scene of an apparent struggle while his russet stared at Cynthia. feyre could see it, in his body language and eyes. He was blaming Cynthia, for what he saw in the room. "What did you do?" he snarled, stepping towards Cynthia with the intension of intimidating her.

But she didn't seem to notice how he towered over her, how his eyes were burning with violence. Cynthia didn't flinch as his loud footsteps echoed into her Fae ears and his snarls rippled the air around her. Feyre stepped forward and put her arm of Lucien;s chest, trying to push his away. "Lucien, it's okay she didn't-" Feyre stopped when he didn't budge. He didn't even acknowledge her existence. Cynthia spoke instead, her voice steady. The way it was before the other Fae in the village, the voice of a commanding leader. "You are in my house, get out of my face."

Cynthia stared straight into Lucien's eyes, never blinking or stirring. Lucien breathed in, out again. Then he turned and walked to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. He stared Cynthia down, but she didn't give him the same treatment. Feyre turned to Lucien. "Lucien, Cynthia didn't hurt me. We were simply talking, there's nothing to worry about."

"I wouldn't agree," But it wasn't Lucien's voice, it was Conn's.

Feyre turned to him. Conn stood at the door, his lips set into a thin line, the same expression on Tamlin's face, who stood beside Conn. Lucien stood from the wall, his attention on Conn, who gave little attention back. Conn's eyes were set on Cynthia, and she seemed to cower away from him. Feyre walked and stood before Cynthia, forcing Conn's eyes on her. "Conn, this is my business with her." Feyre explained, chin set high. She needed to remind him that she was Tamlin's lover, she had power.

But Conn didn't seem intimidated. "Any buisness that is my sisters, is mine."

"To an extent that there are rules?" Feyre was aware of the extent that comment could take her, but when Conn tensed she knew she had hit something...something. "To an extent that you would put her through such pain and suffering?"

Conn's jaw tightened, and his eyes seemed to search the room momentarily, before settling on Cynthia. His brows narrowed and his eyes boiled with rage. He marched towards Feyre and Cynthia, and Feyre made an attempt to guard Cynthia, who she couldn't see behind her. But Conn thrust his arm past Feyre and pulled Cynthia towards him. Feyre couldn't stop it.

Conn had her by the wrist and march away as he dragged her behind him. "Come on Cynthia, Tamlin can take care of them now." Cynthia seemed to struggle, using her free hand to hit Conn's, but to no avail. Tears seemed to fill her eyes as she struggled against Conn. His figure took over hers, and she seemed as meek as a lamb.

Feyre called out to her as Conn dragged her away, but Lucien stopped her with his arm. "Feyre, think about this," Feyre wouldn't let him finish. Whatever he saw from the situation was different to what she saw, and she saw a broken woman being taken away from the first person who knew of her suffering. So Feyre pushed past Lucien's arm and marched towards the door, which Conn had already taken Cynthia. But Tamlin was there too, and he wrapped his arm around Feyre's waist before she left the door.

This was it. Feyre watched as Cynthia turned around to her, still tripping over her own steps as Conn pulled her down the street. Her face was stained with fresh tears and screaming for Feyre's help. But Tamlin had her. He was strong, and Feyre knew she could push past him and save Cynthia before Conn did anything to her. But if she did that, it could put her plan to hell. Giving up being with Rhys...Feyre stopped herslelf.

So she stood helpless, and she watched Cynthia give up struggling, and followed Conn down the street to what Feyre could only hope wasn't deep punishment.


	4. Unveiled Heart-Breaks

Tamlin wouldn't let Feyre leave the house, he wouldn't let her go see Cynthia hours after Conn took her away.

"Why can't you get her out of there?" Feyre shouted to Tamlin across the room. He sat on a chair, his forehead resting on his fist. Lucien leaned against the wall behind him, arms folded and eyes resting of Feyre. "You saw her, Tamlin. Conn is doing something to her, beating her." Feyre pressed.

"Conn is a good man, he would never do anything to hurt his cousin." Tamlin had said this multiple times already, so much so it was starting to hurt Feyre's head. "Cynthia has been very sick, she needs help. The kind of help that will help her to be happy again."

"Her mate is dead, Tamlin," Feyre shouted again, repeating the conversation they had had only five minutes ago. "Her mate is dead, that's not something that you can fix."

"What Conn does with his family is none of my concern," Tamlin said. "I only need to worry about you, and my people."

"Cynthia is your people!" Feyre pressed, outraged by his incompetence.

"Look," Lucien interrupted, stepping forward from his place on the wall. "It's getting late, we should all sleep." Feyre looked out the window to see that it had become dark, shadows glazing over the streets of his village. Feyre bit her lip in frustration, looking back at Lucien. Both males looked over to her, faces strewn in concern and order. Feyre said nothing, only headed off to her room. She made sure to slam the door hard on her way in. Neither males said anything as if letting the child have her fit.

Feyre growled in anger as she laced her fingers through her hair. the flowers laced through it carefully, the work of Alis that morning, fell to the floor. The pink and blue flowers wilted on the white carpet. Feyre stepped in them, breaking them beneath her feet. Tears fell down her face, tears of anger and frustration and sadness. Feyre almost gave up, almost called for Rhys. She needed to feel safe, everything here was falling apart.  
But then she remembered why she was here, and she decided to stay.

* * *

Feyre didn't know when she fell asleep, but she woke to a tapping noise on her window. Feyre was in her bed, her dress still on and her head resting on her outstretched arm.

Feyre was in her bed, her dress still on and her head resting on her outstretched arm. She lifted her head, fully alert. She was facing the window, the tapping noise faint and careful. Repetitive, but only to a point where it would seem like an accident, not like there was someone on the other side. The moonlight from outside cast a shadowy figure on the other side of the window, the curtains drawn over it hiding their identity.

Feyre almost knew better than to go look, but something about the tapping on the window was comforting. It wasn't dangerous, something in Feyre told her that. So she stood up from her bed, her dress falling to the ground silently. She crept to the window, where the tapping had stopped. The figure behind it put its arms down, waiting for Feyre to open the blinds.

Feyre's fingers brushed the edge of the blinds, then she grabbed hold of them and ripped them open in one, fast, steady movement.

Feyres heart dropped a beat for a moment, then she breathed out. Cynthia stood there, smiling faintly. Feyre felt tears come to her eyes, and she quickly turned and ran out of the house. She was silent, sure not to wake Tamlin or Lucien. A smile melted her face as she ran, holding her dress, around the house. She met Cynthia halfway around the house, who was also running, holding her dress with tears of sorrowful happiness running down her face. The two met, Feyre hugging Cynthia so tightly Cynthia winced.

But she didn't pull back, hugging Feyre back. Then she whispered; "I need to take you somewhere."

Feyre let go, standing back a step. "Where?" She asked, her voice quiet.

Cynthia smiled. "It's a surprise."

Cynthia led Feyre through the dak tres of the surrounding forest with such certainty Feyre left completely safe. It was dark, no sound emitting. Every step Cynthia took was silent, as if she knew every place of every stick and rock and leaf there, and avoided it. It was just as easily for Feyre to be silent, all her year's hunting had taught her as much.

Then bright moonlight shone before Feyre before she noticed she was standing at the edge of a large clearing.

It was beautiful and Feyre gazed at it in astonishment. The moonlight was bright as ever, shining a stark silver of the soft grass and trees. The large clearing was clean, pure. A large willow tree stood in the centre of the clearing, the moonlight casting silver streaks on its drooping leaves and branches. Cynthia walked to it, not looked back as Feyre began to walk by her.

She wondered for a moment why Cynthia had brought her here, to this beautiful place.

But she didn't care when Cynthia spoke, her back facing Feyre as she looked out to the willow tree. "His name is Kerrigan." She turned to face Feyre. "We met on the night of the masquerade ball, the ball that cursed us all for the next fifty years," Cynthia spoke softly, free of the ache in her chest. "He was beautiful, asking me to dance without an introduction. His eyes were alluring, the brightest blue to match the blue iris mask he wore, with gold jewels etching down half his face. He asked me to dance, and I said yes,

"I guess I must have known, and maybe he did too. We didn't leave each-others side all night. Until Amarantha. The curse was placed, and Kerrigan held me tight. I was so scared, and he whispered in my ear, telling me; 'It's going to be okay, the cauldron will keep you safe.' And it did."

Cynthia looked to the ground, the hands clasped together before her. Feyre was so shaken, she didn't dare move. Cynthia turned to the tree. "This is where he is buried." She said, "Conn doesn't know. He still believes that his body was left under the mountain to rot. But I went back, right after the curse and brought him back home. I didn't know where he was from, so I kept him with me,

"Amarantha killed him. It was never told, but there were a few who tried to fight back. Physically, for their freedom and everyone else in the court. Because Tamlin wasn't able to, or at least decided not to. Kallias was one of them, but she killed him in an instant,

"And then he died, I did too,

"I must have accepted the mating bond, but it was there and I felt his heart stop beating."

Feyre could feel the sadness radiating off Cynthia, and crept behind to and gave her a hug. Cynthia began to cry, her shaking body making Fayre's heart drop. "I'm happy you finally told someone about this," Feyre whispered.

Cynthia sniffled, wiping her tears from her face with a delicate hand. "Me too."

* * *

The next morning Feyre prepared to leave the village, not need to pack any suitcase. Lucien entered her room as she sat there, sleep deprived. "It's time to go back home." He said, though not seemed to believe it. Feyre looked over at him and nodded. He picked up her bag from beside her door and left the room without any final words.

Feyre took a moment before she got up and followed him. The small cottage suddenly seemed so big, its open windows letting in more sunlight than an open garden. Feyre walked outside, where a carriage waited. Tamlin's guards from the other day all stood around their horses, mingling with each other in casual conversation. She walked down to the carriage and stepped into it without asking permission.

Last night had overtaken her, and Feyre walked Cynthia home at dawn, Conn still asleep. Tamlin was asleep when Feyre returned to the cottage as well, she wasn't sure about Lucien, she was too anxious to check.

She hardly slept either.

As they said farewell, Cynthia told Feyre not to worry about her. She told Feyre she might not be there to wish me farewell as she left the village, and she told her to expect an audience.

Feyre was sour about that idea, and she tempted to go see her anyway. But she knew that might be too risky, she checked if Conn was asleep, but she didn't know what Conn was capable of.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tamlin, who entered the carriage and sat next to her. He smiled, "It's time to go home."

Feyre smiled back in sweet innocence, as the Carriage began to move.

* * *

 **Okay, I'm so sorry I updated after so long. I felt FanFiction all together, and I had no intension of coming back.**

 **I wanted this chapter to be the last, but as I was writing this I realized that I wanted more to happen. So don't worry, there will be another chapter, that will probably be the last one though...**

 **The next chapter will be after ACOWAR, depending on your vision will depend on what time**

 **So I hope you enjoy!**


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